Dsn3
d no questions. In rural Japan, orphanages for demon victims required no explanations.
The group divided themselves between the two wagons—Castoria, Tomoe, Void Shiki, and Ereshkigal joining Hiroki and Shien in the first; Morgan, U-Olga Marie, Ishtar, Koyanskaya, and ORT taking the second. This arrangement had evolved naturally, with those who had formed the strongest bonds with the boy choosing to remain near him during what would inevitably be a difficult farewell.
As they wound through Tanigawa's streets toward the northern gate, Hiroki pressed himself against Ereshkigal's side, his small face solemn as he watched the town pass by. The goddess of death wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders, her usual melancholy expression softened by genuine affection.
"Will there be other children like me?" he asked quietly. "Who lost their families to demons?"
"Yes," Shien answered from his position at the front of the wagon. "Many. The orphanage was established specifically for such cases."
"Will they teach me to fight? Like you promised?"
Shien's crimson eyes met the boy's determined gaze. "They will teach you what you need to know. When you're ready."
This carefully worded response didn't escape Castoria's notice. She studied Shien's profile with thoughtful assessment, wondering if the seeds of doubt Void Shiki had planted were taking root.
They passed through the northern gate without incident, the guards recognizing Shien with respectful nods. Beyond the town's walls, the road wound upward toward a forested hillside where a large compound stood partially hidden among ancient pines. Stone walls surrounded a collection of wooden buildings arranged around a central courtyard, giving the impression of a small, self-contained village rather than an orphanage.
As their wagons approached the main gate, a middle-aged man emerged to greet them. He wore the distinctive half-uniform of a retired Corps member—the black jacket without insignia, paired with ordinary hakama. A scar bisected his left eyebrow, and he walked with a slight limp that spoke of old battle injuries.
"Kurogane," he called in greeting, his weathered face breaking into a genuine smile. "It's been years."
"Hayato," Shien acknowledged with a slight nod as he leapt down from the wagon. "The place has expanded."
"Necessity," Hayato replied, his smile fading. "Demon attacks have increased in frequency. We're at capacity, but we never turn away a child in need." His gaze shifted to Hiroki, who watched the exchange with wide eyes. "I assume this young man needs our care?"
Shien nodded, turning to help Hiroki down from the wagon. The boy descended hesitantly, clinging to Shien's hand after his feet touched the ground.
"His name is Hiroki," Shien explained. "His family was attacked three days ago. He was the only survivor."
Hayato knelt to bring himself to the boy's eye level, his manner gentle despite his battle-scarred appearance. "Hello, Hiroki. I'm Hayato. I run this place with my wife, Mieko. Everyone here has a story similar to yours. You'll be among friends who understand."
Hiroki's grip on Shien's hand tightened. "Will Mr. Shien visit?" he asked, his voice small but determined.
Hayato's gaze flickered to Shien, something like understanding passing between the two men. "He's welcome anytime," he assured the boy, then rose to address the women who had descended from the wagons. "All of you are. We don't get many visitors, but those who protect children from demons will always find our doors open."
The significance of this offer wasn't lost on any of them. In a world where nine divine women bound to a legendary demon slayer would typically invite suspicion and fear, Hayato's unconditional acceptance was a rare gift.
"Perhaps you'd like to see where you'll be staying?" Hayato suggested to Hiroki. "The other children are at morning practice, but they'll be eager to meet you at breakfast."
Hiroki hesitated, looking up at Shien with an unspoken question in his eyes.
Shien knelt, mirroring Hayato's earlier gesture. "This is a good place," he said quietly. "You'll be safe here. And you'll learn what you need to become strong."
"But you promised," Hiroki protested, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. "You said you'd teach me."
Something shifted in Shien's expression—a subtle change that only those who had spent the past days observing him closely would notice. He reached into his haori and withdrew a small object that gleamed dully in the morning light—a wooden pendant on a simple cord, carved with the symbol of a crescent fang.
"Keep this," he said, placing it around Hiroki's neck. "When you're ready—truly ready—find me, and I'll teach you what these people cannot."
Hayato's eyebrows rose slightly at this unprecedented gesture from the infamously solitary Ghost Fang, but he made no comment. Instead, he extended his hand to Hiroki. "Come. Let me show you your new home. Your friends can wait here in the courtyard."
With visible reluctance, Hiroki released Shien's hand and took Hayato's. As they turned toward the main building, he looked back once, his small face a mixture of fear and determination.
"I'll be ready soon," he called. "Wait for me, Mr. Shien!"
Then he was gone, disappearing into the building with Hayato's reassuring presence beside him.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ereshkigal stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Shien's shoulder.
"You did the right thing," she said softly.
"Did I?" For once, Shien's voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty. "Separating him from the only people he's connected with since losing his family?"
"You gave him hope," Castoria pointed out. "And a future path to follow when he's old enough to choose it for himself."
"And a rather stylish accessory," Koyanskaya added, though her usual sarcasm was tempered with something like approval. "Who knew you carried sentimental trinkets, demon slayer?"
Shien rose, his momentary vulnerability vanishing behind his customary stoic expression. "It's a recognition marker," he explained practically. "Corps members and allies use them to identify each other. He'll need it if he ever decides to find me."
"Of course," Morgan agreed, though her tone suggested she believed nothing of the sort. "A purely practical consideration, with no emotional significance whatsoever."
Shien ignored the implicit teasing, turning back toward the wagons. "We've lingered too long. The coastal road is still a day's journey away, and we need to make progress before nightfall."
As they prepared to depart, Hayato returned, this time accompanied by a woman who could only be his wife, Mieko. She was small but carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had faced demons and survived. Like her husband, she bore the marks of past battles—in her case, a long scar that ran from wrist to elbow on her right arm.
"The boy is settling in," she informed them. "He's stronger than most who come to us. There's a fire in him."
"He survived witnessing the slaughter of his entire family," Tomoe observed. "Such experiences either break a soul or forge it into something unyielding."
Mieko nodded in understanding. "We'll guide that fire, teach him to use it rather than be consumed by it." Her gaze shifted to Shien. "The pendant was unexpected. I didn't think the Ghost Fang took students."
"I don't," Shien replied shortly.
"Hmm." Mieko's knowing smile suggested she thought otherwise. "Well, he'll be well-prepared if he ever comes looking for you. We may not be active Corps members anymore, but we haven't forgotten our training."
"Thank you," Ereshkigal said suddenly, her normally reserved demeanor giving way to genuine emotion. "For taking him in. For understanding what he needs."
"It's what we do," Hayato responded simply. "Safe travels to all of you. And Kurogane..." He paused, glancing at the nine women who had clearly become Shien's unlikely companions. "It's good to see you've found people to fight alongside. The lone wolf path exacts a heavy toll."
Shien offered no response beyond a noncommittal nod, but as they climbed back into the wagons, several of the divine women exchanged thoughtful glances. The Ghost Fang's reputation for solitude was clearly deep-rooted—which made their current arrangement all the more unprecedented.
They departed the orphanage compound in contemplative silence, each processing the farewell in their own way. Ereshkigal discreetly wiped away tears, while Castoria stared pensively at the road ahead. Even Tomoe, usually stoic in her warrior's demeanor, seemed affected by the parting.
Void Shiki alone appeared unchanged, her serene expression revealing nothing of her thoughts. Yet when she spoke, her quiet words carried to each of them with perfect clarity.
"He will return to us," she stated with the certainty of one who perceives truths beyond mortal understanding. "The thread of his fate has become entangled with our own."
"You can still see such things?" Ishtar asked, surprised. "Even without your divine powers?"
"Some perceptions transcend power," Void Shiki replied enigmatically. "They are intrinsic to one's nature."
This cryptic exchange might have continued, but their path suddenly descended into a steep ravine where the road narrowed to barely accommodate the wagons' width. The drivers focused intently on guiding their horses through the treacherous passage, while the passengers gripped the sides of the wagons to steady themselves against the jarring descent.
"Lovely," Koyanskaya remarked dryly as a particular violent bump nearly threw her into U-Olga Marie's lap. "From divine beings traversing galaxies to mortal women desperately clinging to wooden carts. How far we've fallen."
"Yet still preferable to walking," Morgan countered pragmatically. "Or being eaten by demons."
"Such low standards you've developed, Your Majesty," Koyanskaya teased. "Next you'll be expressing gratitude for the opportunity to sleep on dirt."
"One adapts to circumstances," Morgan replied with surprising equanimity. "A queen who cannot adapt is merely a figurehead with a crown."
This philosophical observation from the normally imperious fairy queen drew contemplative silence from her companions. Indeed, they had all adapted far more rapidly than any might have expected when they first appeared in this world—from divine beings of immense power to practical survivors learning to navigate mortal limitations.
The wagons emerged from the ravine onto a plateau that offered spectacular views of the countryside. Forests gave way to terraced fields in the distance, with occasional villages visible as clusters of thatched roofs amid the greenery. Beyond, a silver line at the horizon hinted at the ocean awaiting them.
"The coastal road lies there," Shien indicated the distant line where mountains seemed to meet sea. "We'll reach it by tomorrow afternoon if we maintain this pace."
"And what dangers might we encounter between here and there?" Tomoe asked practically, ever the strategist.
"This region has been relatively free of demon activity since I cleared the mountain passes last year," Shien replied. "But given recent events, we should remain vigilant. Word of nine divine women traveling with the Ghost Fang will have spread."
"Meaning we're essentially painting a target on ourselves," Castoria concluded.
"Yes."
"Wonderful," U-Olga Marie sighed. "I've gone from consuming stars to being bait for flesh-eating monsters. The indignity is truly staggering."
Despite her complaints, those who had fought alongside her during the attack on their camp noted that she checked her improvised weapon was within easy reach as she spoke. Like all of them, U-Olga Marie was adapting to their dangerous new reality, her imperial disdain increasingly a facade rather than a genuine impediment.
The day passed without incident, their journey settling into the steady rhythm of wagon travel. The divine women used the time to continue acclimating to their mortal limitations, sharing observations and strategies that might prove useful in future encounters with demons.
"Their regenerative capabilities are impressive but not unlimited," Tomoe noted, having observed Shien's combat techniques closely. "Severe damage to vital points slows them considerably, even if only their heads can be permanently destroyed."
"And they're stronger at night," Castoria added, "which suggests a fundamental weakness to sunlight. Is that why they disintegrate when killed, Shien? Some reaction to exposure?"
Shien, who had been listening silently to their analysis, nodded. "Demon flesh cannot withstand direct sunlight. It's why they hunt at night or in deep shadow."
"Yet you hunt them regardless of time," ORT observed with her usual clinical precision. "Your combat effectiveness does not diminish in darkness. Fascinating adaptation for a human."
"Years of training," Tomoe surmised, studying Shien with professional assessment. "Combined with natural talent and exceptional sensory acuity. Your eyes—they see in darkness better than most, don't they?"
Shien inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment but offered no further explanation of his unusual capabilities. His reticence about his own origins remained absolute, despite the growing bonds forming between him and the divine women under his protection.
As evening approached, they made camp in a defensible position on high ground, using the wagons as partial barriers with a small fire at the center of their perimeter. The drivers, clearly experienced in frontier travel, helped establish the camp before retreating to their own fire some distance away—close enough for safety, but far enough to offer privacy.
"They fear us," Ereshkigal observed quietly, watching the men cast occasional wary glances toward their unusual passengers. "Or at least, they're uncertain what to make of us."
"Smart men," Koyanskaya approved, stretching languidly beside the fire. "Nine women of varying otherworldly origins traveling with the legendary Ghost Fang? I'd be suspicious too."
"They fear what they don't understand," Shien corrected, returning from a perimeter check with his customary silent approach. "It's a natural response in a world where the unfamiliar often proves deadly."
"Yet you accepted us readily enough," Morgan observed shrewdly. "Despite our clearly otherworldly nature."
Shien's crimson eyes met hers across the fire. "I had little choice in the matter."
"Ah yes, the binding," she acknowledged with a regal incline of her head. "Yet I wonder if there isn't more to it than that. You've shown remarkable adaptability for one who supposedly values solitude above all else."
Before Shien could respond to this probing observation, ORT suddenly straightened from her usual hunched posture, her kaleidoscopic eyes focusing on something beyond the firelight.
"Movement," she announced. "Multiple entities approaching from the northeast. Their gait patterns are erratic. Non-human."
Instantly, the relaxed atmosphere vanished. Weapons appeared in hands that had been empty moments before, impromptu armaments crafted during their journey from whatever materials had been available. Even U-Olga Marie rose with fluid grace, her elaborate garments no longer hindering her movements as they once had.
"Demons?" Tomoe asked, already positioning herself at the perimeter's edge with the makeshift bow she had crafted.
"Yes," Void Shiki confirmed, her white kimono seeming to glow in the gathering darkness. "Eight of them. Hunting together again."
"Like Miyuki's puppets," Castoria realized. "Someone else must be controlling them."
Shien's expression hardened as he drew his black blade. "Stay within the perimeter. Don't break formation unless absolutely necessary."
"The drivers," Ereshkigal reminded him, gesturing toward where the two brothers had risen in alarm, clearly sensing the approaching danger even if they couldn't yet see it.
"Bring them into our circle," Shien ordered. "Ishtar, Koyanskaya—retrieve them. Quickly."
The two goddesses moved with surprising coordination, dashing to where the brothers stood frozen with indecision. They returned moments later, shepherding the wide-eyed men into the relative safety of the defensive formation.
"Ghost Fang," the elder brother acknowledged shakily, "I thought the mountain passes were clear."
"They were," Shien replied grimly. "These demons aren't hunting randomly. They've been sent specifically for us."
The implications of this statement hung heavy in the night air. Whatever entity had dispatched Miyuki the Puppeteer had not abandoned the pursuit after her destruction. Instead, they had escalated, sending a larger hunting party with similar coordination.
The first demons emerged from the darkness beyond their campfire—twisted humanoid forms moving with the unnatural synchronization that indicated external control. Unlike ordinary demons, who attacked with feral aggression, these moved with tactical precision, spreading out to surround the camp while maintaining formation.
"They're attempting to flank us," Tomoe observed, her warrior's eye instantly assessing the strategy. "Cutting off escape routes before closing the circle."
"Standard military tactic," Morgan agreed, her royal bearing giving way to the commanding presence of a battle queen. "Whoever controls them has martial training or experience."
Shien's eyes narrowed as he scanned the perimeter, clearly looking beyond the approaching demons for their controller. "They'll be watching from a distance. Tomoe—can you spot any anomalies in the tree line? A figure observing rather than advancing?"
The warrior woman focused her keen gaze on the distant darkness, then nodded sharply. "There—on the ridge to the east. Something reflects moonlight occasionally. A blade or ornament."
"The puppetmaster," Shien confirmed. "They won't engage directly if they can avoid it."
"Then we bring them to us," Koyanskaya suggested, her golden eyes gleaming with predatory anticipation. "Or rather, you do, while we hold off their puppets."
Castoria immediately grasped the tactical implications. "A diversionary defense while Shien targets the controller directly. It could work, but the binding—"
"Will stretch to its limit," Void Shiki interjected calmly. "As we discovered earlier, there is flexibility at the boundary. Enough for this purpose, I believe."
The approaching demons had nearly reached the edge of their firelight, their distorted features becoming visible—twisted parodies of human faces contorted by hunger and malice. Yet their movements remained unnaturally coordinated, each positioning itself with precision that belied their monstrous appearance.
"Decided," Shien stated flatly. "Maintain the defensive circle. Keep the drivers protected at the center. I'll eliminate the controller."
Before anyone could object, he was moving—a shadow detaching from shadows, circling wide around the demon formation with such speed that even their enhanced senses couldn't track him effectively. The binding immediately made itself felt, a pressure against each of the divine women as Shien approached its outer limit.
"Brace yourselves," Castoria warned as the sensation intensified. "The farther he goes, the stronger the pull will become."
The demons, sensing Shien's departure, immediately altered their strategy. Instead of continuing their measured advance, they charged simultaneously from multiple directions, converging on the campsite with feral howls that belied their previously disciplined approach.
"Formation!" Tomoe called, stepping forward to meet the nearest attacker with her makeshift spear. "Don't break ranks!"
What followed was a chaotic but surprisingly coordinated defense. The divine women had learned from their previous battle, adapting to their mortal limitations with growing skill. They fought not as individuals but as a unit, covering each other's vulnerabilities and creating opportunities through teamwork rather than raw power.
Morgan and U-Olga Marie, once the most resistant to their reduced circumstances, now fought back-to-back with aristocratic precision, their movements complementing each other as if they had trained together for years rather than days. Ishtar and Ereshkigal, divine sisters reunited in mortal peril, employed their natural connection to anticipate each other's actions, one distracting demons while the other struck at vulnerable points.
ORT moved with inhuman efficiency, her alien mind calculating trajectories and vulnerabilities that others might miss, while Void Shiki seemed to materialize wherever she was most needed, her serene presence creating momentary openings for her companions to exploit.
Throughout it all, Castoria coordinated their defense with the strategic brilliance that had defined her in her divine form, calling positions and warnings with the authority of a battlefield commander. Koyanskaya fought with the savage joy of a predator finally unleashed, her golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction each time her improvised weapons found demon flesh.
The wagon drivers, initially paralyzed by fear, found their courage as they witnessed the women's determined defense. They joined the fight with the practical weapons of frontier travelers—a woodcutting axe and a heavy iron pot that proved surprisingly effective when swung with desperate strength.
Meanwhile, at the binding's outer limit, Shien moved with single-minded purpose toward the distant ridge where the puppetmaster observed the battle. Each step beyond a certain point created increasing resistance, as if he were wading through water that gradually thickened to the consistency of honey. Yet he pressed forward, his crimson eyes fixed on his target with predatory intensity.
Back at the campsite, the divine women felt his progress as mounting pressure against the binding's constraints. It wasn't pain, precisely, but a profound discomfort that threatened to become debilitating if pushed too far.
"He's reached the limit," Void Shiki announced, somehow maintaining her calm despite the strain evident on her pale features. "Now he tests its boundaries."
"Can it break?" Ereshkigal gasped, narrowly avoiding a demon's slashing claws while fighting against the binding's pull.
"Unknown," ORT replied with clinical detachment despite the circumstances. "But it stretches. Fascinating property for a metaphysical constraint."
The defensive battle continued with growing intensity as the demons pressed their attack, sensing the women's distraction. A particularly large demon—a grotesque mountain of muscle with tusks protruding from a misshapen jaw—broke through their perimeter, charging directly toward the center where the drivers had taken refuge.
"Incoming!" Castoria shouted, but she was too far away to intercept.
In a move that would have been impossible days earlier, U-Olga Marie abandoned her position beside Morgan and threw herself into the demon's path. With no weapon available, she improvised—seizing a burning brand from the campfire and thrusting it directly into the creature's face.
The demon shrieked in pain and fury, momentarily blinded but still dangerous as it lashed out with massive fists. One caught U-Olga Marie squarely in the midsection, sending her flying backward to crash against one of the wagons.
"Olga!" Morgan's usual imperial composure shattered at the sight of her fallen companion. With a cry that contained more emotion than any had heard from the fairy queen, she launched herself at the demon, driving her improvised spear into its throat with such force that the wooden shaft splintered with the impact.
The demon staggered but didn't fall, its regenerative abilities already working to repair the damage. It reached for Morgan with murderous intent, only to find Koyanskaya suddenly on its back, her golden eyes blazing with unexpected fury.
"No one touches our queen," she snarled, driving sharpened stakes into each of the demon's eyes with surgical precision.
The creature howled in agony, thrashing blindly as it tried to dislodge her. Koyanskaya rode its movements with feline grace, maintaining her position while calling to the others.
"A little assistance would be appreciated! I can't remove its head without a proper blade!"
Tomoe immediately responded, abandoning her own opponent to leap to Koyanskaya's aid. With perfect coordination born of their growing understanding of each other's capabilities, she swung her makeshift axe in a powerful arc that connected with the demon's neck just as Koyanskaya jumped clear.
The blow wasn't clean enough to sever the head completely, but it created a deep wound that temporarily immobilized the creature. Before it could recover, the elder wagon driver stepped forward, his face set with determination as he raised his woodcutting axe.
"For my brother," he declared grimly, bringing the tool down with all his strength on the demon's partially severed neck.
The head separated, the body immediately crumbling to ash that scattered in the night breeze. There was no time for celebration, however, as the remaining demons pressed their attack with redoubled fury.
On the distant ridge, Shien had finally reached his target—a slender figure in elaborate robes who watched the battle below with calculating intensity. Unlike Miyuki, this puppetmaster made no attempt to flee or fight when discovered, instead turning to face Shien with a smile that contained too many teeth to be human.
"The famous Ghost Fang," the demon greeted, voice melodious despite its inhuman origin. "Lord Muzan sends his regards."
Shien's blade gleamed in the moonlight, already positioned for a killing stroke. "Your control over the lesser demons ends now."
The puppetmaster's smile widened. "Does it? I wonder..." It raised one elongated hand, fingers moving in complex patterns like a shamisen player plucking invisible strings. "What happens if I push your divine companions beyond their mortal limitations?"
At the campsite, the remaining demons suddenly altered their attack patterns, becoming more reckless, more willing to sustain injuries if it meant inflicting damage in return. It was a suicide strategy—demons sacrificing their own survival for the chance to wound or kill their opponents.
"Something's changed," Castoria called in warning. "They're fighting differently!"
"The puppetmaster must have modified their instructions," Tomoe realized, narrowly avoiding a demon that threw itself bodily at her position. "They're no longer trying to win—just to cause maximum damage before they're destroyed."
This desperate new approach immediately created greater danger for the divine women. Without their supernatural powers, they lacked the raw physical durability to absorb direct hits from creatures many times stronger than ordinary humans.
Ereshkigal stumbled as a demon's claws raked across her shoulder, tearing fabric and drawing blood. Ishtar immediately moved to protect her sister, intercepting another attack with her own weapon but receiving a glancing blow to her ribs in the process.
ORT, analyzing the new patterns with her alien perspective, called out a warning. "They target vital areas exclusively now. Previous restraint abandoned. Probability of fatal injuries increased by 78.3%."
On the ridge, Shien's expression darkened as he sensed the change in the battle through the binding's connection. The puppetmaster observed his reaction with evident satisfaction.
"They're quite resourceful, your divine pets," it remarked conversationally. "Lord Muzan finds them fascinating. So much lingering divinity, even stripped of their powers. Consuming them would elevate any demon to unprecedented heights."
"Then you've failed your master," Shien replied coldly. "None of them will fall to your puppets."
The demon's smile never wavered. "Perhaps not. But you can't protect them from here, can you? The binding stretches but doesn't break. An interesting limitation for the legendary Ghost Fang."
Shien's blade moved with blinding speed, but the puppetmaster had anticipated the attack. It dodged with inhuman flexibility, its body contorting in ways that defied anatomical constraints.
"I am Kagero, the Puppet Lord," it announced with theatrical flair. "Miyuki was my apprentice, a crude practitioner of our shared art. I am something altogether different."
To demonstrate, it raised both hands in an elaborate gesture. In the camp below, all the remaining demons froze simultaneously, then began to convulse violently. Their bodies twisted and distorted, bones cracking audibly as their forms remade themselves into something new and more terrible.
"A little modification," Kagero explained pleasantly. "Demons are such malleable creatures in the right hands."
The transformed demons resumed their attack with even greater ferocity, their bodies now bristling with bony protrusions and elongated limbs that extended their reach beyond what the women had prepared for. The battle below took on a desperate quality as the divine women fought with diminishing strength against enemies growing more formidable by the moment.
Shien's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation with tactical precision. The binding prevented him from moving too far from the women, yet remaining on the ridge with Kagero meant he couldn't directly intervene in their defense. A classic dilemma designed to exploit his limitations.
"A difficult choice," Kagero observed, reading his thoughts with unnerving accuracy. "Remain here to eliminate me, allowing my puppets potentially fatal minutes to attack your companions? Or abandon our duel to save them, allowing me to escape and return with even greater forces?"
Shien's response was neither hesitation nor anger, but a cold, calculating assessment that made even the demon's smile falter.
"You assume those are the only options," he said quietly. Then he resheathed his sword in a single fluid motion.
Kagero's expression shifted to confusion. "Surrendering, Ghost Fang? How disappointing."
"No." Shien's crimson eyes held an intensity that made the demon take an involuntary step backward. "Changing the parameters."
With that cryptic statement, he turned his back on the puppetmaster—a gesture so unexpected that Kagero actually froze in momentary shock. Rather than attacking or retreating to the camp, Shien knelt at the ridge's edge, assuming a meditative posture with his hands resting on his thighs.
"What game is this?" Kagero demanded, confusion giving way to suspicion. "Do you think I won't strike an undefended opponent?"
Shien didn't respond, his focus turned inward as his breathing slowed to an almost imperceptible rhythm. The air around him seemed to still, then vibrate with subtle energy that raised the hairs on Kagero's arms.
"Enough of this," the demon snarled, its elegant facade cracking to reveal the monster beneath. It lunged forward, fingers elongating into lethal claws aimed at Shien's unprotected back.
The claws never connected. Inches from Shien's body, they encountered resistance—not a physical barrier, but something more fundamental, as if reality itself objected to the demon's intent. Kagero froze, its inhuman eyes widening with the first stirrings of genuine fear.
"What is this?" it whispered.
Below in the camp, the divine women felt the change first through the binding—a sudden easing of the pressure, followed by a surge of energy that felt like a cool breeze across overheated skin. Their fatigue diminished, their movements becoming more fluid and precise without apparent cause.
"Something's happening," Castoria called, dispatching a demon with newfound strength. "The binding—it's changing somehow!"
Void Shiki, who had been fighting with serene efficiency despite the chaos, paused momentarily as understanding dawned in her pale eyes. "He's not fighting the binding," she realized. "He's working with it. Through it."
On the ridge, Shien remained motionless in his meditative posture, yet power radiated from him in palpable waves. The binding, once a constraint that limited his movements, now became a conduit—a connection flowing both ways between the demon slayer and the divine women.
Kagero, sensing the shift in power dynamics, abandoned its attack on Shien and turned its attention back to controlling its puppet demons. Its fingers moved in increasingly complex patterns, desperately attempting to maintain command of the creatures below.
"Kill them!" it shrieked, abandoning its earlier composure. "Kill them now!"
The demons responded with renewed aggression, but something had fundamentally changed in the battle's momentum. The divine women moved with coordination that transcended conscious strategy, anticipating each other's actions and responding to threats before they fully materialized.
Morgan executed a perfect counter that would have been impossible minutes earlier, her body moving with the muscle memory of centuries of combat despite her currently mortal limitations. Beside her, U-Olga Marie rose from where she had fallen, her injuries somehow less debilitating as she rejoined the fight with imperial determination.
Koyanskaya and Tomoe fought back-to-back, their vastly different fighting styles blending into a deadly dance that confounded the demons attempting to separate them. Ishtar and Ereshkigal protected each other with synchronized movements that spoke of their divine connection, now manifesting even without their powers.
ORT's already precise movements became almost prescient, while Castoria coordinated their defense with tactical brilliance that seemed to draw on knowledge beyond her current self. Void Shiki alone remained outwardly unchanged, yet her serene efficiency now carried an undertone of power that made demons hesitate before approaching her.
"Impossible," Kagero hissed, its control over its puppets faltering as the tide of battle visibly turned. "What have you done, Ghost Fang?"
Shien's eyes opened, crimson irises now glowing with inner light. He rose from his meditative posture with fluid grace, turning to face the demon with an expression that contained neither triumph nor anger—only absolute certainty.
"I accepted what you sought to exploit," he said simply. "The binding isn't merely a constraint. It's a connection."
Understanding dawned in Kagero's inhuman eyes, quickly followed by fear. "The residual divinity—you're channeling it somehow."
"Not channeling," Shien corrected, drawing his black blade once more. "Resonating."
Below, the divine women felt this truth in their very beings. Something of their divine natures remained even in these mortal shells—not power that could be wielded directly, but essence that could resonate with the right stimulus. And Shien, through the binding that connected them all, had somehow found the frequency that awakened these dormant echoes.
Kagero abandoned subtlety, lashing out with all its demonic strength and speed. Claws extended to impossible lengths, aiming for vital points with lethal precision. Yet Shien moved with equal impossibility, his blade intercepting each attack with such perfect timing that it seemed he'd begun moving before the demon itself decided to strike.
"Lord Muzan will destroy you for this," Kagero snarled, frustration mounting as each attack failed. "The binding circle was meant to be your weakness, not your strength!"
Shien's expression remained unchanged as his blade continued its perfect defense. ""Muzan didn't understand the circle's true nature," Shien replied, his voice calm despite the lethal dance they were engaged in. "Neither did you."
With a movement too fast for even demonic senses to track, he closed the distance between them. His black blade described an arc of perfect geometry through the night air, connecting with Kagero's neck before the demon could complete its defensive movement.
"A pity," the demon whispered as its head began to separate from its body. "I would have enjoyed... learning more..."
The head fell, the body crumbling to ash that scattered in the mountain breeze. With its death, the puppeteer's control over the demons below vanished instantly. The creatures, suddenly bereft of coordinated purpose, fell into disarray—some fleeing into the darkness, others attacking with mindless aggression that made them vulnerable to the divine women's coordinated defense.
Within minutes, the remaining demons had been dispatched, their bodies dissolving into ash that mingled with the dirt of the campsite. Silence fell, broken only by the heavy breathing of the combatants and the soft crackle of their fire, somehow undisturbed despite the chaos that had surrounded it.
Shien descended from the ridge, moving with fluid grace despite the exertion of his battle with Kagero. As he approached the camp, the divine women gathered to meet him, their expressions a mixture of wonder, confusion, and newfound respect.
"What did you do?" Castoria asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "The binding—it changed somehow."
Shien sheathed his blade with practiced precision. "I stopped fighting it," he replied simply. "The circle wasn't designed to constrain, but to connect."
"You resonated with our residual divinity," Void Shiki observed, her pale eyes seeing more than her companions could perceive. "A bridge between your mortal strength and our immortal essence."
"Is that even possible?" Morgan demanded, her imperial tone failing to mask her genuine curiosity. "For a human to access divine power, even indirectly?"
"Apparently so," Koyanskaya remarked, golden eyes studying Shien with newfound interest. "Our demon slayer continues to surprise. How delightful."
Before the conversation could continue, U-Olga Marie stepped forward, her usual hauteur noticeably absent as she addressed Shien directly.
"You saved my life," she stated bluntly. "When that creature struck me, I felt... something flow through the binding. Strength when I had none left."
Shien regarded her evenly. "The connection works both ways. What remains of your divine nature responded to need."
"Still," she persisted, clearly struggling with unfamiliar emotions, "I wish to acknowledge... that is, I find myself..." She took a deep breath, visibly composing herself before continuing. "Thank you."
The simple expression of gratitude from the normally imperious alien goddess created a moment of stunned silence. Then Koyanskaya began to slow-clap, a mischievous grin spreading across her fox-like features.
"My, my," she purred. "The apocalypse must truly be upon us if U-Olga Marie is expressing gratitude to a mere mortal."
"Don't push your luck, Beast," U-Olga Marie snapped, though without her usual venom. "I merely acknowledge a tactical debt."
"Of course," Koyanskaya agreed, her tone suggesting she believed nothing of the sort. "Purely pragmatic."
As the adrenaline of battle gradually subsided, the full implications of what had occurred began to sink in. The binding that had seemed a limitation now revealed itself as something far more complex—a connection that could potentially be developed, strengthened, perhaps even controlled with practice.
"We should rest," Shien announced, practical as always despite the revelations of the night. "Tomorrow's journey will be challenging, and we need to reach the coastal road before nightfall."
The divine women exchanged glances, clearly reluctant to postpone discussion of the binding's new dimensions, but eventually acquiesced to his pragmatic assessment. They returned to the tasks of maintaining their camp, though now with a subtle difference in how they moved around Shien—less like reluctant companions and more like a cohesive unit centered around his quiet authority.
The wagon drivers, who had acquitted themselves surprisingly well during the battle, approached Shien with newfound respect in their expressions.
"Ghost Fang," the elder brother addressed him, "those creatures—they were hunting you specifically, weren't they?"
Shien nodded once, offering no elaboration.
"And there will be more," the man concluded shrewdly. "Well, our agreement stands. We'll take you to the coastal road as promised, demons or no demons."
"Your courage is noted," Shien replied, the simple acknowledgment clearly meaning more to the frontier men than flowery praise might have.
As they settled for the night, arranging watch rotations with practiced efficiency, Void Shiki drifted to Shien's side where he stood at the perimeter of their camp, his crimson gaze scanning the darkness beyond.
"You knew," she observed quietly. "About the binding's true nature."
"I suspected," he corrected. "The circle's design was too complex for simple constraint."
"Yet you didn't attempt to utilize it until necessity forced your hand."
Shien's expression remained unreadable in the moonlight. "Such connections come with risks."
"Yes," Void Shiki agreed, her pale eyes studying his profile with enigmatic intensity. "To connect is to become vulnerable, is it not? Perhaps that is why you have hunted alone for so long."
Before he could respond, she drifted away, her white kimono ghostly in the darkness as she rejoined the others by the fire. Her observation lingered in the night air, unacknowledged yet impossible to dismiss completely.
The camp gradually settled into the rhythm of rest, with pairs taking watch shifts throughout the night. No further attacks materialized, though all remained alert for the possibility. The revelation of the binding's nature had changed something fundamental in their group dynamic—a shift from reluctant coexistence toward something approaching genuine partnership.
Dawn arrived with tentative golden light filtering through morning mist. They broke camp efficiently, the divine women now moving with the coordinated precision of those who had fought together and survived. The wagon drivers, too, worked with newfound purpose, clearly eager to reach the relative safety of the coastal road before another night exposed them to potential demon attacks.
As they prepared to depart, Castoria approached Shien where he stood conferring with Tomoe about their route.
"The binding's new dimension changes our tactical approach," she observed practically. "We should develop strategies that utilize this connection deliberately rather than only in emergencies."
Shien considered this with his usual measured assessment. "Possible, but not without risk. The resonance draws on what remains of your divine natures—essences that were never meant to interact with a mortal vessel."
"You fear it could harm us," Tomoe concluded, understanding immediately.
"Or you," Castoria added shrewdly. "The conduit works both ways, as you said. Channeling even echoes of divine power through a human body must create significant strain."
Shien didn't confirm or deny this observation, but the slight tightening around his eyes suggested she had identified a truth he was reluctant to acknowledge.
"We will train," he stated instead. "Carefully. The connection may prove necessary against stronger opponents."
This pragmatic concession satisfied them for the moment, though both women exchanged glances that suggested the conversation was far from concluded. The implication that Shien had considered their wellbeing in his reluctance to exploit the binding's full potential was not lost on either of them.
They resumed their journey with renewed purpose, the wagons making good progress along the increasingly well-maintained road. As the morning advanced, the terrain gradually changed—forests giving way to terraced farmland that indicated they were approaching more densely populated areas.
In the lead wagon, Ereshkigal sat beside Castoria, their conversation turning to the previous night's revelations.
"I felt something strange during the battle," the goddess of death confessed quietly. "A kind of... remembrance. Not my powers returning, but an echo of what they once were."
"I experienced something similar," Castoria agreed. "Tactical insights beyond what my current limitations should allow. As if knowledge I once possessed was briefly accessible again."
"Through Shien," Ereshkigal concluded, her blue eyes thoughtful as she watched the demon slayer riding ahead on horseback, having taken point position to scout their route. "He became a conduit somehow."
"Which raises interesting questions about him," Castoria mused. "What kind of human can resonate with divine essences without being consumed by them?"
In the second wagon, a similar conversation unfolded between Morgan and U-Olga Marie, though with their characteristic imperial perspective.
"In my realm, mortals who attempted to channel divine power invariably burned from within," U-Olga Marie stated flatly. "Their physical forms simply could not contain such energies."
"Similarly in Avalon," Morgan concurred. "Yet our demon slayer not only survived but seemed to thrive on the connection. Most unusual."
"Perhaps he is not entirely human," ORT suggested from her position opposite them, her kaleidoscopic eyes fixed on Shien's distant figure. "This vessel detects anomalies in his biological patterns inconsistent with standard human parameters."
This observation drew sharp looks from both royal women.
"Explain," Morgan commanded.
"His temperature regulation exceeds human norms," ORT elaborated with clinical precision. "His cellular regeneration operates at 378% increased efficiency compared to baseline humans I have observed. His sensory processing demonstrates similar enhancements."
"You've been studying him," U-Olga Marie realized, her expression torn between disapproval and reluctant interest.
"I study all phenomena worthy of observation," ORT replied simply. "Shien Kurogane represents a statistical anomaly of significant magnitude."
From her position at the wagon's edge, Koyanskaya laughed softly. "Our cosmic horror has developed quite the fascination with our handsome protector," she observed. "One might almost call it a crush, if such concepts applied to incomprehensible entities from beyond reality."
"Inaccurate terminology," ORT countered, though those observing closely might have detected a subtle shift in her complexion—the closest thing to a blush her inhuman physiology could produce. "Scientific interest only."
"Of course," Koyanskaya agreed with a knowing smile. "Purely academic curiosity about his 'cellular regeneration' and other impressive... attributes."
The journey continued through midday, the mood lightened by these exchanges despite the serious implications of their discovery about the binding. Something had changed in their relationships—not just with Shien but with each other. The shared battle experiences and the revelation of their connected fates had transformed nine distinct individuals into something approaching a cohesive group.
By early afternoon, they crested a rise that offered their first view of the coast—a stunning panorama of blue ocean stretching to the horizon, with the coastal road winding along its edge like a pale ribbon. Small fishing villages dotted the shoreline, while larger settlements clustered around natural harbors.
"The coastal road," Shien announced as they paused to appreciate the view. "From here, we follow it northeast to Edo. Three days' journey if we find suitable transportation."
"Civilization at last," Ishtar sighed with genuine relief. "No offense to our rustic accommodations, but I've developed a profound appreciation for proper beds and hot baths."
"And food that hasn't been dried to the consistency of leather," Morgan added with rare agreement.
They descended toward the coastal plain, the road widening and improving as they approached more populated areas. By late afternoon, they reached the intersection where the mountain route joined the main coastal thoroughfare—a busy crossroads with a substantial way station serving travelers from multiple directions.
The way station consisted of a large inn, stables, several merchant stalls, and a small shrine dedicated to safe travels. Travelers of various sorts milled about—merchants with loaded carts, samurai on horseback, pilgrims with walking staves, and ordinary folk moving between villages.
"We'll rest here tonight," Shien decided as they approached the inn. "Tomorrow we can arrange faster transportation along the coastal road."
The wagon drivers, having fulfilled their contract by delivering them safely to the coastal intersection, prepared to take their leave.
"This is where we part ways, Ghost Fang," the elder brother announced, extending a calloused hand in the western manner rather than bowing—a gesture of equal respect rather than deference. "Been an education, traveling with you and your... companions."
Shien clasped the offered hand briefly. "You fought well against the demons. Few would have shown such courage."
The simple praise clearly meant more to the frontier men than elaborate thanks might have. They departed with respectful nods to the divine women, their wagons turning back toward the mountain route they had traversed together.
The inn proved to be a substantial establishment with multiple buildings arranged around a central courtyard. Unlike the modest accommodations in Tanigawa, this was a commercial enterprise catering to wealthier travelers, with private rooms, bathing facilities, and a reputation for excellent food.
As they approached the entrance, Castoria voiced a practical concern. "Our resources are limited," she observed quietly to Shien. "Will we have sufficient funds for such accommodations?"
"Yes," he replied simply, offering no elaboration on the source of his apparent wealth.
The innkeeper—a shrewd-looking woman with the calculating gaze of someone who had seen every type of traveler—assessed their unusual group with professional interest.
"Rooms for the night?" she inquired, her tone carefully neutral despite the evident curiosity in her eyes.
"Yes," Shien confirmed. "Five should suffice."
This allocation—reducing their previous arrangement from four rooms to five—raised eyebrows among the divine women, but none commented until they had been shown to their accommodations on the inn's upper floor.
"Five rooms rather than four," Koyanskaya noted with a sly smile as they gathered in the central corridor. "Our demon slayer appears to be developing preferences for certain company."
"Or practical considerations for privacy," Castoria countered, though her cheeks colored slightly at the implication. "After days of travel together, some separation may be beneficial."
The division of rooms prompted renewed negotiation, this time with an undercurrent of competitive interest that had been absent in their previous arrangements. Eventually, it was decided that Ereshkigal and Ishtar would share one room; Morgan, U-Olga Marie, and ORT another; Tomoe and Castoria a third; and Void Shiki the fourth, her preference for solitude respected by the others.
This left Koyanskaya apparently without assigned accommodations, a situation she regarded with theatrical dismay.
"It seems I've been overlooked in these arrangements," she observed with exaggerated innocence. "How unfortunate. Perhaps I should seek shelter with our protector, purely as a practical solution."
"There are spare futons in our room," Tomoe stated flatly, seeing through the fox-spirit's transparent maneuver. "You're welcome to join us."
Koyanskaya pouted briefly before her natural mischief reasserted itself. "How generous. Though I can't help but notice our demon slayer made no objection to my suggestion. Interesting, isn't it?"
Shien, who had been arranging for baths and meals during this exchange, returned to find several of the women regarding him with varying degrees of speculation and amusement.
"The bathing facilities are ready," he announced, oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the undercurrents. "Women's side first, then men's after dinner."
"Separate bathing areas?" Koyanskaya sighed dramatically. "How disappointingly conventional after our previous... communal experience."
This reference to the bathhouse incident in Tanigawa brought immediate color to several cheeks, though Shien's expression remained impassive save for a barely perceptible tightening around his eyes.
"Dinner will be served in the private dining room adjacent to the baths," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I'll be meeting a contact about transportation while you refresh yourselves."
"Always business," Koyanskaya teased. "All work and no play makes Shien a dull demon slayer."
"I prefer efficiency to entertainment," he replied dryly, turning to leave before her flirtation could escalate further.
As he departed, several of the divine women exchanged knowing glances.
"He's becoming more responsive," Ereshkigal observed quietly. "When we first appeared in this world, he would have simply ignored such comments."
"Progress indeed," Morgan agreed with regal amusement. "Though one wonders what it might take to truly crack that stoic facade."
"A question that bears investigation," Koyanskaya purred, her golden eyes gleaming with mischievous intent. "Perhaps a more... direct approach is required."
"Or perhaps respecting his natural boundaries would be more appropriate," Castoria suggested firmly, though her own interest in their enigmatic protector was increasingly difficult to disguise.
The bathing facilities proved to be a highlight of the establishment—a series of hot spring pools separated by bamboo screens and flowering shrubs, creating the illusion of bathing in a natural garden. After days of travel, the opportunity for proper bathing was embraced enthusiastically by all.
Unlike their previous experience in Tanigawa, this bathhouse was designed with privacy in mind, with multiple pools allowing for separation among the bathers. Despite this, the divine women found themselves gravitating toward shared conversation as they enjoyed the steaming waters.
Ereshkigal and Ishtar claimed a pool beneath a flowering plum tree, the steam rising around them as they spoke in low voices about the revelations of the previous night.
"I still can't quite believe it," Ishtar admitted, sinking deeper into the hot water. "A human—even an exceptional one—able to resonate with divine essence? It defies everything we understood about the separation between mortal and immortal realms."
"Perhaps that's why the binding circle brought us here specifically," Ereshkigal suggested thoughtfully. "Not random chance, but deliberate selection—nine divine beings whose essences could somehow harmonize with his unique nature."
Nearby, Morgan and U-Olga Marie had claimed the largest pool, their imperial sensibilities demanding appropriate space. Despite their usual competitiveness, they had developed an unlikely rapport born of shared royal perspective.
"It raises questions about his origins," Morgan observed, continuing a conversation they had begun earlier. "No ordinary human could serve as a conduit for divine energies without being consumed in the process."
"Agreed," U-Olga Marie nodded sharply. "In my observation of humanity, even the strongest mortals would disintegrate if exposed to mere fragments of true divinity."
ORT, who had joined their pool with her usual disregard for social norms, tilted her head in that slightly inhuman way. "His cellular structure demonstrates abnormal resilience," she noted clinically. "And repair mechanisms beyond standard human parameters."
In a smaller pool partially screened by bamboo, Castoria and Tomoe discussed more practical implications of their discovery.
"If the binding can be consciously directed rather than merely responding to crisis, our tactical options expand considerably," Tomoe observed, her warrior's mind already calculating possibilities. "Even limited access to our former capabilities would alter the balance of power against demons significantly."
"But at what cost?" Castoria countered. "You saw how exhausted he was afterward, though he tried to hide it. Channeling multiple divine essences, even as echoes, must place enormous strain on a mortal body."
Void Shiki, who had chosen the most secluded pool, nevertheless found herself joined by Koyanskaya, whose curiosity consistently overrode concerns for privacy.
"You're the most enigmatic of us all," the fox-spirit observed, studying Void Shiki's serene expression. "Even I can't quite determine what you truly think of our demon slayer."
"Does it matter?" Void Shiki replied, her pale eyes regarding Koyanskaya with calm assessment.
"Of course it matters," Koyanskaya laughed softly. "We're all developing... interests... in our handsome protector. Even you, I suspect, though you hide it better than most."
Void Shiki's lips curved in that ghost of a smile that revealed nothing. "I see death in all things," she said simply. "Yet his death eludes my sight. It makes him... uniquely fascinating."
This cryptic response only heightened Koyanskaya's curiosity, but before she could press further, a commotion from beyond the bathing area drew their attention—raised voices, followed by the distinctive sound of something heavy falling over.
The divine women exchanged alarmed glances, their relaxation instantly replaced by the alertness that had become second nature during their journey. Reaching for towels and yukatas provided by the inn, they prepared to investigate the disturbance.
Tomoe, ever the warrior, was first to exit the bathing area, her improvised weapon—a wooden washing bucket handle—grasped firmly in one hand. The others followed close behind, their recent experiences having taught them to expect danger at any moment.
What they found in the private dining room adjacent to the baths was not a demon attack, but something equally surprising—Shien locked in combat with a man in the distinctive uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Both moved with blinding speed, their swords clashing in patterns too complex for ordinary human vision to track fully. The dining room furniture had been pushed aside or overturned to create space for their duel, though neither combatant seemed to pay any attention to their surroundings.
"What's happening?" Castoria demanded, addressing her question to a young woman who stood watching the fight with evident concern. She, too, wore Corps insignia—a Butterfly hairpin that marked her as a member of the medical division.
"A misunderstanding," the woman replied hastily, her eyes never leaving the dueling men. "Hashira Takahiro didn't realize who had arrived. When he saw the Ghost Fang's distinctive blade—"
"He attacked without asking questions," Tomoe concluded, her expression hardening as she assessed the combat. "Typical Corps arrogance."
The fight continued with increasing intensity, neither man willing to yield despite the obvious lack of killing intent in their movements. It was a test of skill rather than a battle to the death—though no less dangerous for that distinction.
The Hashira—apparently one of the elite swordsmen of the Corps—fought with textbook precision, his blade tracing patterns of traditional breath style techniques. Shien, by contrast, moved with his characteristic fluid efficiency, no wasted motion or energy as he countered each attack with seemingly effortless ease.
"Should we intervene?" Ereshkigal asked uncertainly, clutching her yukata closed as she watched the dangerous display.
"And deprive them of their masculine posturing?" Koyanskaya replied with amused disdain. "Battles of dominance are so tedious, yet apparently necessary for their gender."
The duel reached its climax when the Hashira executed a particularly complex attack sequence—blade moving in spiraling patterns as he called out "Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun!"
Shien met the technique not with an answering breath style, but with pure, economical movement. His black blade intercepted the Hashira's attack at precisely the moment of maximum extension, using the man's own momentum to disarm him with a twist of inhuman precision.
The Hashira's sword clattered to the floor, its owner finding himself suddenly at the Ghost Fang's mercy—Shien's black blade resting against his throat with just enough pressure to communicate complete victory.
For a tense moment, neither man moved. Then, unexpectedly, the Hashira began to laugh—a genuine sound of surprise and appreciation rather than bitterness in defeat.
"Well executed," he acknowledged, stepping back as Shien lowered his blade. "The rumors don't do you justice, Ghost Fang. Your reputation is well-earned."
Shien sheathed his sword with a single fluid motion. "Your flame breathing technique has improved since our last encounter, Takahiro."
"You remember me?" the Hashira asked, clearly surprised.
"You were less impulsive then," Shien observed dryly.
This drew another laugh from Takahiro as he retrieved his fallen sword. "Fair criticism. Though in my defense, we'd received reports of a demon masquerading as you to gain victims' trust. I thought verification was prudent."
"There are less dramatic methods of verification."
"But none quite as definitive," Takahiro countered with a grin. "Only the real Ghost Fang could counter that technique so effectively."
It was only then that both men seemed to notice their audience—nine divine women in various states of dishabille, having rushed from the baths at the first sound of conflict. Takahiro's eyes widened appreciatively, while Shien's expression tightened into something approaching embarrassment.
"Well," Koyanskaya purred, making no attempt to adjust her loosely draped yukata, "this is an interesting welcome to the coastal region. Do all Corps members greet visitors with lethal weaponry, or are we receiving special treatment?"
The Hashira recovered his composure quickly, offering a formal bow to the assembled women. "My deepest apologies for the disturbance, ladies. Takahiro of the Flame Pillar, at your service."
"How gallant," Morgan observed with imperial disdain, though her eyes assessed the handsome Hashira with undisguised interest. "First you attempt to kill our escort, then you offer pleasant greetings. The Corps' protocol seems remarkably flexible."
The young woman with the Butterfly hairpin stepped forward, her manner more diplomatic than her companion's. "Please forgive the misunderstanding. I'm Ayame of the Butterfly Estate. We were sent to verify reports of..." she hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Shien, "unusual travelers accompanied by the Ghost Fang."
"Reports that appear accurate," Takahiro added, his gaze moving appreciatively over the divine women before returning to Shien. "Though you neglected to mention their extraordinary beauty in your message to headquarters."
"It wasn't relevant," Shien replied flatly.
"I beg to differ," the Hashira chuckled. "But then, your legendary focus on the practical over the pleasurable remains intact, I see."
This exchange, with its implications of a history between Shien and the Corps that he had never mentioned, drew intrigued glances from several of the divine women. The Ghost Fang had consistently presented himself as a solitary hunter, separate from the organized demon slayers of this world—yet here was evidence of ongoing communication and established relationships.
"Perhaps," Castoria suggested diplomatically, "we might continue this conversation once we've had the opportunity to dress more appropriately?"
"An excellent suggestion," Ayame agreed quickly, shooting a warning glance at Takahiro, whose attention had remained appreciatively fixed on the divine women. "We'll await you in the private dining room across the courtyard. The innkeeper has prepared a substantial meal that should not go to waste."
As the Corps members departed, the divine women turned questioning gazes toward Shien, who had maintained his characteristic stoic expression throughout the exchange.
"You've been in contact with the Corps," Tomoe stated rather than asked, her tone suggesting she felt this information should have been shared earlier.
"When necessary," Shien acknowledged briefly.
"And this Hashira seems quite familiar with you," Koyanskaya observed with a sly smile. "A friend, perhaps? Or something more... complex?"
"A former training partner," Shien replied, offering no further elaboration as he turned toward the door. "Dress quickly. There's much to discuss, and Takahiro rarely remains patient for long."
As he departed, leaving them to return to their rooms for proper attire, the divine women exchanged speculative glances.
"Our demon slayer becomes more interesting by the hour," Koyanskaya remarked. "Hidden connections, untold histories... one wonders what other secrets he's keeping beneath that stoic exterior."
"And whether they're secrets we truly wish to uncover," Ereshkigal added softly, her melancholy gaze following Shien's retreating form. "Some mysteries, once revealed, cannot be forgotten—no matter how much one might wish otherwise."
---
## Chapter 7: Masks and Mirrors
The private dining room across the courtyard proved to be an elegant space designed for important guests—tatami floors of the finest quality, delicate paper screens painted with coastal scenes, and a low table already set with an impressive array of seafood dishes that spoke of the inn's proximity to fresh ocean harvests.
Takahiro and Ayame awaited them, the Hashira having discarded his official Corps jacket in favor of a more casual yukata that nevertheless bore flame patterns subtle enough to reference his breath style specialization. Ayame remained in her medical corps uniform, the butterfly hairpin gleaming in the lamplight.
"Please, join us," Takahiro invited as they entered, gesturing expansively to the cushions arranged around the table. "The coastal specialty here is grilled